Tending Flowers
by Lauralee63
Summary: A story of the young boy who would become Steele


The boy watched the old woman as she took care of her plants. He'd watched her many times before and it always amazed him how well she looked after them. Often she even bent down to smile at them and talk to them.

Although the area they grew in was rough the flowers themselves were truly beautiful, they even managed to brighten up the place making it easy to forget they were in a rundown old street.

He'd been tempted at times to take one, he wasn't sure why, after all he had no-one to give it to and he couldn't eat it. What puzzled him even more was he knew he couldn't, it didn't feel right. He shrugged his shoulders and after watching for another moment or two left to find a pocket to pick.

The woman watched the small boy leave, she'd seen him many times and had often wanted to speak to him. He always seemed so sad and alone. She knew about being alone, since her husband's death sadness for her was a close companion although thanks to this, his wonderful garden its visits had become much rarer and didn't last long, and tending it always made her feel that he was still there.

She sighed and went back inside determined that next time she saw the child she would at least speak to him.

It wasn't a long wait, the next day he was there again, just watching, the same way he always did. His reaction to her calling him was extreme to say the least and her heart almost broke at the look of terror in the deep blue eyes.

The young lad panicked at the sound of the old woman calling him, what was she planning to pin on him? He was more than capable of getting into trouble all by himself, he didn't need to be blamed for things he hadn't even done. He would have run if not for the gang of teenagers coming towards him. He made a quick decision based on the knowledge that they could do him far more damage than a little old lady could.

"Coming!" he called quickly and ran to her side.

Several of the older boys looked as though they might follow him anyway but the eldest of them shook his head and they backed off.

"Ain't worf the bovver, lads." he said and lead them away adding, "B'sides, we can always git "im later, eh."

The young boy planned to slip away once the boys and the danger they presented left, however the woman had other ideas. Grabbing his arm she said, "You can pick some of the flowers whenever you like, you know."

"Ain't ya scared I'll take "em all?"

"No, should I be?"

"Probably not."

"You could give some to your Mum."

"Don't got one of those."

The woman saw his face and realised he'd revealed far more than he usually would.

"How about your Gran, would you like to give her some?"

"Ain't got one of those eiver."

"Oh dear, you know we're alike you and I?"

"'aven't you got a Mum or Gran?"

"No, well I haven't but what I meant was I don't have a little boy to have tea and scones with, and I do like to have tea and scones, don't you?"

"It's alright, I 'ppose."

"Do you think perhaps you could help me?"

"Dunno, I don't know any little boys."

"Silly of me, or course you wouldn't, big strapping lad like you. Although, a boy about your size would be nice to have tea and scones with too. Could you help?"

"If you're really stuck, I 'ppose, I could. Can't stay too long, though, got places to be."

"I'm sure you do, but I'd be ever so grateful."

The woman nearly wept at the way the child's eyes lit up at the sight of the food and he ate as though he hadn't had a decent meal in months.

"Are you good at weeding?"

"What's that?"

"After we eat, I'll show you, it's just a way of clearing out the plants I don't want to leave more room for the flowers."

"So what happens to those plants?"

"I throw them away."

"You mean you kill them?" the question was whispered with the underlying sadness of one used to being tossed aside.

"I suppose I do, makes the garden look so much neater."

"It is a nice garden."

"Would you be willing to help?"

"I'll fink about it."

The woman smiled and filled a bag with leftover scones and other food and handed it to the boy. She didn't know how but she knew she wouldn't see him again, they hadn't even exchanged names. He was like a little hobo and she prayed he'd find whoever or whatever he was looking for.

As he left she realised he was much like a wildflower himself and someone out there someone was looking for him and would nurture and shape him into the prize bloom he was meant to be.

Very nearby a man was searching for a young boy he knew was his son.

As he stood in the elegant living room of his "borrowed" flat he raised his brandy glass heavenward.

"You know I don't ask for much but send him my way as soon as you can, oh and in the meantime, please send some of your angels across his path."


End file.
